


A Street in a Strange World

by DesireeArmfeldt



Series: Traveller Without Baggage [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Amnesia, Community: ds_snippets | dsc6dsnippets, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amnesia sucks, but not as much as you might think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Street in a Strange World

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to [ds-snippets](http://ds-snippets.livejournal.com) for the prompt:
> 
> "A man walks down the street  
> It’s a street in a strange world  
> Maybe it’s the third world  
> Maybe it’s his first time around  
> He doesn’t speak the language  
> He holds no currency  
> He is a foreign man  
> He is surrounded by the sound, the sound  
> Cattle in the marketplace  
> Scatterlings and orphanages"  
> 

The thing about amnesia was, yeah, it sucked rocks when you woke up in the hospital with no idea where the hell or who the hell you were, and they told you not to worry, things would start coming back to you, and then after a while they stopped saying that and started saying—in bigger or smaller words—Sorry, buddy, guess you’re stuck this way. It sucked beyond belief to realize that you had nothing—that you were no one—that your whole thirty-whatever (forty-whatever?) years of life were gone. Yeah, that was freakout city.

But a couple years down the road? It actually wasn’t so bad. Because you weren’t nobody any more. You were you, and you knew who that was. Sure, your name you picked on a whim to replace “John Doe,” but “Steve Kingston” was a real guy. A guy who liked his coffee sweet and his pizza with pineapple. A guy who was great with cars and crap with computers. A guy who got irritated with little old ladies who walked too slow and gummed up foot traffic for everyone else, but who would hold doors open for them anyway ‘cause he felt guilty if he didn’t. A guy who went for beers with the other guys from the auto body, and coached baseball and hockey at the Boys & Girls Club on weekends, and flirted with the cute blonde waitress at McKinnon’s. Three years of memories were enough to make a life, if not a lifetime, and you were pretty happy, all things considered.

And then the Mountie showed up.


End file.
